


Four times Daryl thought about how Rick would be in bed...

by Tiofrean



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 4+1 fic, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Daryl Dixon is Brave, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, On Daryl's part, Rick Grimes is Dangerous, Rick Grimes is a Ball of Fluff, Somehow, Surviving in The Apocalypse And All It Entails, how do I tag this?, prison era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 00:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17213345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: ...and the one time he learned it first-hand.





	Four times Daryl thought about how Rick would be in bed...

**Author's Note:**

> I would call it an attempt at writing a Christmas fic... 
> 
> Guys, this is possibly the first time I've wrote a 4+1 fic and I decided to use this very classy format to celebrate my 100 fics! If you wanna come and sip some proverbial champagne with me, lemme know in the comments :D Otherwise, enjoy this lil bit of writing while I go off to write another 100k of some more serious fic. 
> 
> Enjoy it, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Blessed Yule, or Merry Whatever-Shakes-Your-Boat! <3 And a happy New Year to all of you! <3

The first time Daryl had ever thought about Rick in bed was right after the farm had fallen. They were all huddled up in the ruins of…  _ whatever the hell that was, _ staring into the fire until they felt warmed by it, trying not to freak out while thinking about their future. 

_ It looked pretty meek.  _

As meek as their glances did, as a matter of fact - scared eyes and furrowed brows, dragging behind Rick as if the man had all the answers.  _ Didn’t those fucker know that Rick was winging it?  _

Daryl could see it plain as a day. Rick Grimes was making do as he went, picking the best options and trying to keep everyone safe. He was damn good at it, too, even despite the hell Shane had dragged him through. Daryl didn’t need Rick telling him what had happened in the forest, the equation was simple here. They both went into the woods, Rick came back alone. If there was one person capable of surviving the farm’s fall, it had been Shane, and he wasn’t with them anymore. It meant that he got killed, and judging by Rick’s haunted gaze and his full lips squished into a thin line, the killer was standing right in front of them all. 

It wasn’t like Daryl minded, hell, he was actually glad that the bastard got what had been coming for him. If it hadn’t been for the way Rick was acting like a beaten up puppy, he would actually congratulate the man. But, Rick wasn’t one to murder people, always talking his way out of whatever shit life threw at him. And if the killing was unavoidable - to protect his family or save his own life - Rick would do it with a heavy heart and nightmares riding on his coattails. 

Daryl wondered all that while he was watching Rick pace this way and that, looking almost like a caged tiger, waiting for an opportunity to snap at anyone who who dared to question him. It was exactly what he did a moment later when the first accusations were thrown his way. 

They weren’t really accusations, either, rather pointed questions asked out of concern. But they made Daryl himself angry, not to mention Rick. People kept asking him, so he snapped back at them, almost growling at first, then outright shouting. He had every right to do it, too - they had all placed far too much shit on his shoulders. Daryl just stood there, half-listening in case he had to interfere, eyes turned to the woods to make sure that the ongoing argument wouldn’t draw any walkers to their little hideout. He glanced at Rick from time to time, and that was when he saw it. 

The look. 

The  _ eyefuck, _ more like. 

Daryl couldn’t tear his gaze away from Rick for a long few seconds, watching as Rick stared their little group down, telling them to take the highway if  _ his  _ way wasn’t good enough for them. The look Rick had gifted them all with belonged to two circumstances: killing or  _ fucking. _

That thought startled even Daryl himself, and his head snapped back, gaze focusing on the forest in front of him. He had no right - or  _ interest  _ \- to let his mind go that way. He knew he was gay, had been for the whole of his life, even if he had never acted much on his urges… a quickie here or there couldn’t be qualified as anything significant, not like a real relationship. He had no right to start lusting after a man with a wife and a kid, even if the wife had cheated on him and was pregnant with a guy Rick had killed the previous night. 

Shaking his head, Daryl tried to clear it of images that started to filter in unbidden.  _ Rick in a bed, fucking his wife with his eyes as much as he did with his cock-  _

“Jesus…” Daryl muttered, blinking into the darkness. He couldn’t let that get to him, it would only end in a disaster. 

 

-&-

 

Daryl had really tried not to think about Rick and how he would be in bed. With time, he had failed and had finally stopped fighting it. The images of Rick had become a constant buzz at the back of his mind, something he fell back on during long watches and cold nights... Images of Rick in different, imaginary scenarios, in bed or up against a wall, on a pile of leaves in the middle of the forest or on the cold floor of a warehouse… Daryl had made his peace with them filling his head, but he was still fighting his attraction towards the man. 

Daryl had a problem, you see, and the problem had a name. 

_ Will Dixon. _

Daryl’s father. 

He had been a man who had liked hurting others… most often people from his own family. Daryl had been on the receiving end of his temper more times than he cared to count. It had left scars, too. A whole net of them, crisscrossing on his back, wrapping up to his front on occasion. There were also the deeper ones, those his dad embedded in his mind, making him distrustful and easily scared when it came to people. Daryl had been raised mostly by his brother, though, and he had learned in a very early age that being anybody’s bitch wouldn’t do him any good. 

And so, Daryl had started to keep his feelings and emotions to himself, preferring to lash out at others to keep them at bay every time he felt even a bit scared. It worked perfectly, until Rick had appeared one day and had started to worm his way between Daryl’s walls, bringing them down one after another. Then, Daryl had started to  _ like _ him a bit too much, and he had another problem on his hands. 

The more he had discovered about Rick, the more he couldn’t shake off the sneaky feeling that Rick was hellishly dominant in bed… and that was something Daryl couldn’t accept. He had another confirmation of that when Rick and him were involved in a skirmish between their group and another one they encountered a few weeks after the farm had fallen.

It was a small pack of close friends consisting of five people. They met them on an abandoned gas station and started arguing about their rights to whatever was left of the gasoline. In the height of emotions, fists started flying, and after they were done punching the living hell out of each other, Daryl found himself staring at Rick holding a man down, low to the ground, one of the man’s arms twisted painfully behind his back. Rick was leaning over the guy’s back, bent until Daryl could see the shirt he was wearing stretch against the slope of his back, Rick’s mouth close to the man’s ear and whispering something with murder in his beautiful blue eyes. 

Daryl wasn’t sure what happened next, only that he checked if their family was okay -  _ they were, _ tucked away at the line of the forest - and just stood there, waiting for Rick to be finished with whatever threats he was bestowing upon the guy. It must have worked, because when Rick let him go finally, the man stumbled away, collecting his friends and disappearing down the road. 

It was a shame that the only picture that remained in Daryl’s mind was Rick keeping someone down forcibly. 

 

-&-

 

The images of Rick had never stopped coming, and soon, Daryl had troubles  _ not _ noticing what Rick was doing and wondering how it corresponded to how Rick would be in bed. Some occurrences were still a bit more highlighted than the others, though - like Rick  _ swearing. _ That one hit Daryl out of the blue, punched him right in the guts and left him stupefied for a long time. 

Rick had always been such a polite guy, always saying  _ please, _ and  _ thank you, _ and to be honest, Daryl hadn’t even been convinced that the man had it in him to swear. He had been pretty shocked when Rick had hurt his hand one day, then cursed his way through Hershel trying to sort it out. 

It was a cut - long, deep and bleeding like a stuck pig. It happened at a very unfortunate time, too, because they had ran out of antibiotics, pain meds, and generally all of their medical supplies. But the wound was bleeding, and Rick was getting a bit pale, and Daryl asked Carol for a sewing needle as soon as they had stepped over the threshold of an abandoned house. Next, he went through the cabinets in the bathroom, grabbed the dental floss that was in there, and went back to Rick. 

“Found somethin’,” Daryl said, showing him the needle and the soon-to-be thread. Rick winced, but Hershel nodded, peeking over Daryl’s shoulder.    
“That should do. Let’s go to the kitchen and clean it a bit first,” he suggested, herding Rick through the house. Daryl went after them out of curiosity... and some strange attempt at moral support. Daryl knew just how badly stitching a wound hurt and if he could help in any way, he would. Even if only by holding Rick’s other hand should his friend need it. 

“Sonofabitch!” Rick hissed, trying to jerk his hand away when Hershel poured some years-old moonshine over the wound. Daryl winced, gritting his teeth.  _ Yeah, he knew that part only too well.  _   
“Sorry, we don’t have any anesthetics,” Hershel apologized, threading the needle. Daryl knew that working with it would be pretty hard - it was too straight, prepared to sew clothes rather than flesh - but there was no way around it. He had thought about bending it a bit, but that would probably break the brittle metal it was made of, and that would be counterproductive. 

“Yeah, fine, I know…” Rick mumbled, gritting his teeth when he saw the tip of the needle traveling closer to his skin. “Just wish we had- oh  _ fuck!”  _ He seethed, trying not to shout. The grimace on his face became even more prominent, eyes squeezing shut when the needle went in and through.    
“Just breathe through it,” Hershel reminded him, working steadily.    
“What the  _ fuck  _ do you think I’m doing?” Rick grated, his other hand finding the edge of the table and wrapping around it, knuckles going white.  _ “Goddamnit!”  _   
“Daryl got through that last month, you’re gonna be fine, too, Rick,” Hershel stated in that fatherly tone of his. Daryl’s eyes widened when Rick let out a bitter laugh.    
“Don’t compare me to Daryl,” he muttered between gasps. 

Daryl had a brief second to feel offended and self-conscious, before Rick went on, making Daryl feel overly warm in turn.    
“He’s... made of fucking...  _ steel. _ Eats a damn hammer... shits nails,” Rick muttered, breaking off every word or two when Hershel struck a nerve with the needle. 

Daryl frowned, then blushed, and - because he didn’t know what else to do - he stopped looming over the doorstep and walked into the kitchen.    
“Yer tough enough, Rick,” he mumbled, eyes glued to Rick’s bloodied hand and Hershel’s fingers stitching the wound closed. 

Rick’s head whipped around, his eyes zeroing-in on Daryl, and the hunter couldn’t help himself when he thought about how beautiful the man was, even with his stubble growing wild and unwashed hair hanging all over his face. 

Of course, that was the precise moment Hershel decided to jab Rick with the needle a bit too hard, and that handsome face was turning away quickly, mouth opening on a snarl. 

_ The mix of expletives that had left Rick in that moment was so colorful, Daryl wouldn’t be able to repeat them if his life depended on it. _

_ It turned him on, too, which was a surprise in and of itself.  _

“Is anyone on watch?” Rick grated, then tried to suck in a deep breath. Daryl shook his head reflexively, realized that Rick couldn’t see him with his eyes still squeezed shut, and gave a verbal answer.    
“Not yet. I’ll send someone to do a perimeter check.”    
“Thank-  _ fuck!” _

Shaking his head again, Daryl went to do the check himself, trying to figure out why exactly had Rick’s swearing hit him so hard... and why did Merle’s words in Rick’s mouth make him feel so warm.

 

-&-

 

The next time Daryl had his little moment of  _ Rick revelation, _ was at the most inopportune time. They had just gotten the prison, and right when they were making their way through the tombs, Hershel got bitten. Rick had saved him - hacking off his leg, staining everything blood-red - and they were all catching a much needed breath…

And then, the  _ inmates  _ happened. Daryl didn’t like them from the start, but he went with Rick’s judgment. He knew that his friend was a pacifist inside, always trying to work it out between everyone and make everyone happy. 

They all tried… they tried really hard. 

_ It didn’t work. _

When Rick jammed his machete into that sleazy guy’s skull, a picture of surprise still evident on his slowly draining face, Daryl shivered so hard his bow rattled. 

He didn’t get a lot of time to figure this out, though, not further than the basic notion of  _ Rick being violent when pushed too hard.  _ Much too soon, shit went down, shit Daryl never wanted to go down like this. 

First, Lori died, then, Rick started to wander the crazy town, seeing his dead wife everywhere and falling apart at the seams. It was a very dark time for everyone, but Rick had been sucked into that darkness, swallowed whole, and Daryl was afraid that he would never emerge. 

The time, however dim it seemed, gave Daryl the opportunity to figure some things out about himself, though, and with Rick being detached from the prison life - gardening through his days and trying to fight his insomnia in the nights - it came to him easier than he would admit. 

Daryl realized that he was  _ afraid. _

Even if Rick had been in his right mind - which he wasn’t, not by a long shot - Daryl would be reluctant to start anything with him. The violence, the dominant eyefucking and keeping that one guy low on the ground… hell, even the  _ swearing, _ they had all painted a pretty grim picture of Rick. At least grim for Daryl. The hunter wasn’t sure he would be able to open himself up, to lay back and enjoy the ride if it ever came to that. He had had enough hurt to last him a lifetime, and getting more pain and humiliation would probably break him. Especially if it came from Rick. 

Sitting in the watchtower one evening, Daryl pondered all this, shaking his head at himself. 

_ Rick was his friend, goddamnit! _ He had never treated Daryl with anything but respect and - dare he say it - love. But sex and love were two different things, and if fucking got emotional, Daryl was afraid that Rick would become the violent beast that sometimes reared its head during their fight for survival. 

Daryl couldn’t have that, not even if his body was demanding of him to do something about his attraction towards their leader.  _ Not even if his dreams had turned steamy and sexy some time ago, making him moan himself quietly awake to wet sheets and sweaty skin.  _ He would have to deal, employ his right hand when things got too unbearable and jerk himself off dreaming about the Rick he would never have. 

 

-&-

 

It was almost one and a half years later before Daryl started to think about how Rick would be in bed again. During that period, they never really had had time for anything - the war with the Governor had done a number on all of them. They had lost Hershel and other people… too many people. Thankfully, one and a half years later, they were all coming back to the land of the living, still residing in the prison, slowly making their own little world behind high fences and tough walls. 

On one snowy evening, the girls had decided that their own little world needed to start celebrating Christmas again. 

And here they were, a week later - a week filled with a gift hunt which Daryl had deemed the biggest waste of time on earth. 

But, grumpy or not, Daryl had finally had to admit that there was something about celebrating Christmas that made him feel warm all over… it had a lot to do with one Rick Grimes, smiling at something Maggie was saying, happy crinkles forming around his eyes. He had been getting better after Lori, but it had still taken him almost a year before he could laugh at jokes thrown his way. Right now he was seated on one of the sofas in the common area, a space they had designated for relaxing specifically. He had a glass filled with eggnog and was working his way through it, taking small sips and looking like he actually enjoyed the drink. 

Daryl hated eggnog, it was too sweet and sticky, heavy and didn’t have nearly enough alcohol, but it still packed a certain punch if drank excessively, so he had grabbed a glass when Beth had poured him one. It warmed him up a bit... not as much as Rick’s smile had, though. 

Shaking his head distractedly, wishing he could just shake off his feelings for the other man, Daryl looked around the common room in search of an empty space to sit. 

_ The only unoccupied space was the spot next to Rick. _

With a sigh, Daryl made his way to the couch, hoping his mind would stop providing him with images he thought he had forgotten long ago.    
“This seat taken?” He asked, smirking when Rick’s smile was directed at him, chased by a snort of laughter.    
“Are you trying to flirt with me?” Rick asked jokingly, taking a sip from his glass. Everyone around them was busy with something - either talking or watching kids play with their gifts - and Daryl was glad that nobody would see his ears blushing a bright red.    
“An’ if I am?” He asked back cheekily, narrowing his eyes at Rick. The leader chuckled good-naturedly, then patted the spot next to him.    
“Then I’d say it’s free to take,” he shot back, shifting a bit in place to correct his sprawl and make some space for Daryl. The hunter nodded his thanks and plopped down, not giving much thought to their  _ flirting. _

It had been happening for some time now, friendly pats on the stomachs, easy smiles, half-spoken inside jokes, winking and chuckling… Daryl had figured that it was just something friends did, and because he had never had a friend like Rick in his life, he couldn’t tell the line between serious and fun flirting. 

_ He was starting to reconsider it now. _

“Thanks for that dinosaur,” Rick murmured quietly, only loud enough for Daryl to hear. The hunter shrugged, eyes following Rick’s, focusing on Judith playing with one leg of the huge plushie. It was as big as a German Shepherd, floppy legs and a smiling mouth, made out of soft fake fur. Daryl was sure that whoever had made it had had no idea how dinosaurs were supposed to look like, but Lil’ Asskicker seemed to like it just fine.    
“‘S nothin’,” he mumbled back, taking a sip of the overly sweet eggnog. “Thanks for the jacket.” 

At that, Rick’s smile was back on full blast, directed solely at him again, eyes shining happily. 

He had given Daryl a new leather jacket. It had been found in an old supermarket they had ransacked, looking for supplies and gifts alike. Daryl had been inside with Rick at the time, so he knew it had come from him, even if it had been placed under their Christmas tree with Daryl’s name as the only text on the label of the neat package. 

“I was thinking about a vest… but I know you like your current one,” Rick explained, nodding to the vest Daryl was wearing.    
“Used to be Merle’s.” Daryl shrugged again, looking down.    
“I know. And I know you miss him.” 

Merle was dead, there were no words that could bring him back. Daryl had made his peace with that, just as Rick had made his peace with Lori’s death. He had learned to move on, to live again, just as Rick had. And, even if they were both alone, they weren’t really lonely. They had all their family with them, and that was what counted most. 

_ If only Daryl’s mind wouldn’t go all warped every time Rick smiled at him, it would be perfect… _

They sat there in companionable silence, sipping eggnog and watching their group celebrate Christmas, until Carl - who had been assigned the task of giving everyone their gifts from under the tree - appeared in front of them. They had decided to open the gifts on this evening, rather than waiting for the morning to come. There were still some packages left, mostly for the adults, one of them designated for Rick.    
“Here, dad,” Carl said, placing a rather big package wrapped in packing paper on Rick’s lap. Rick’s eyebrows rose in surprise, his gaze flicking between the parcel and his son, before Carl wandered away, diving under the tree again. 

“Come on, open it.” Daryl elbowed him playfully in the side, and Rick blinked down at the gift. He reached out with tentative hands and unwrapped the paper carefully, revealing a neatly folded blanket. 

_ It wasn’t just a regular blanket, either.  _

It was… well,  _ thick _ didn’t even begin to cover it. It reminded Rick of a cat his brother used to have, some special breed that had three times as much fur as any other feline. The blanket was dark blue, with a lighter trim and so fucking  _ soft _ Rick couldn’t stop running his fingers over it.    
“Wasn’t sure ‘bout the color, but the other choices were pink and yellow, an’ I never took ya for a giant chicken fan,” Daryl mumbled out next to him, and Rick startled, looking at him almost as if he had forgotten that Daryl was sitting there.    
“You… I…” he paused, licked his lips, then tried again. “It’s beautiful.” Rick glanced back at the blanket. 

It was thick enough to stave off the cold of the winter, something Rick hated with passion. He had never liked chilly nights, but now, without Lori next to him, winters were unbearable. They had always lacked warmth inside the cold prison walls, something Rick had tried to remedy by using two blankets at the same time. It had been pretty much useless, though, because the blankets always shifted and slipped during the night, leaving him curled up in a ball and shivering himself awake. 

“Took the other ones with me, too, just in case anyone needs ‘em,” Daryl added, taking one last sip from his glass. When he glanced back at Rick, his friend was staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Daryl tried to ignore the butterflies swarming his stomach suddenly, reminding himself that he would probably be very disappointed if he ever acted on his urges and dragged Rick to bed. His inner battle must have shown, because Rick was putting the blanket away carefully, then turning to him with a look of concern shining through. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked quietly, so quietly it would go unnoticed by the rest of their family.   
“Just…” Daryl hesitated, then told himself it was Rick and that Rick was his friend. “Never really liked Christmas, ya know?”   
“Really? Why?” Rick asked, curiosity shining through. Daryl shrugged, _again._   
“Never got anythin’ I wanted. Wanted toys when I was little. Then, just wanted some peace and quiet. Now…” Daryl trailed off, looking down at the empty glass. He could feel Rick shifting next to him, no doubt trying to catch his gaze. Daryl didn’t think he could let their eyes meet. 

“Now?” Rick prompted after a bit of silence, and Daryl swallowed heavily. He wasn’t sure whether it was Rick’s soft voice, or the eggnog’s alcohol finally kicking in, but he let his mouth run away from him.    
“An’ now I can’t get what I want. Not sure I woulda opened it if I got it,” he mumbled, then felt himself blush. Rick was quiet next to him, almost as if he understood that Daryl’s gift wasn’t an object they could just scavenge from some poor bastard’s abandoned house. 

Feeling strangely vulnerable, much too shaken for the innocent words he had said, Daryl stood up and walked out, muttering something about taking a piss and directing his steps outside. Rick didn’t stop him, even though they both knew it was snowing heavily and that the prison had a very functional communal bathroom. 

 

-&-

 

By the time Daryl was back - three perimeter checks and half a pack of cigarettes later - the party was slowly coming to an end. Everyone was either getting ready for bed, or already in their cells, which included Rick. 

During his wandering outside, Daryl had come to a conclusion -  _ he would try. _ The fire in his body had been ignited once again, his mind providing him with images of Rick that made him regret wearing restricting underwear, and Daryl was sick of being scared. He was ready to try, even if he got burned for his curiosity later. Rick was a violent man under the surface, but Daryl reckoned that he himself was just as violent. If things went south, he could always rely on his instincts to guide him and, if needed be, fight his way out. 

His mind made up, Daryl went to Rick’s cell, stepping lightly not to draw anyone’s attention. Nobody saw him sneaking up to the row of cells on the upper level, and he let out a quiet sigh, before he slipped inside Rick’s, letting the privacy curtain fall back into place behind him. 

Rick wasn’t asleep. He was sitting up in the narrow bed, reading a book, glancing up at Daryl when he noticed the movement at the entrance to the cell. The hunter cast a quick look at the crib, but it was empty - Beth had probably taken Judith in for the night. He dragged his gaze back to Rick then, noticing that Rick’s legs were wrapped up in the new blanket, the material of it drawn all the way up to his waist, creating a nice contrast with Rick’s mostly-white t-shirt. Rick smiled, seeing the path Daryl’s eyes made, and closed the book before he placed it on the crate that stood in for his bedside table. 

“It’s so warm,” Rick murmured quietly, one hand rubbing over the blanket casually, but his voice had that ring to it that told Daryl just how much he appreciated the gift. “Thank you.”    
“Ya wanted to know what I wanted fer Christmas, right?” Daryl asked instead, eyes narrowing at Rick in the half-darkness provided by two small candles burning merrily on the crate. Rick nodded slowly, surprise clear on his features. 

Daryl bit his lip for a second, before his body reminded him of all the fire coursing through his veins. He strode forward until he could sit on the edge of Rick’s bunk, leaned down and kissed the man quickly before he could lose his nerve. 

To say that Rick was surprised would be the understatement of the century. He made a little shocked squeak, froze up for the duration of time that Daryl’s mouth spent pressed against his, then stared at the hunter with wide, unblinking eyes.    
“Daryl?” Rick asked, his voice choked up. Not knowing what to do with himself, Daryl let his gaze slip down and proceeded to glare holes in the blanket.

He would have still been sitting there the next morning - all courage gone in the light of Rick’s surprise and the softness of his lips - had it not been for Rick’s hand moving. Daryl watched as the fingers flexed, then curled away from the blanket, coming closer to Daryl’s leg. When they wrapped tentatively around his knee, Daryl’s whole body twitched.    
_ “Daryl?” _ Rick asked again, voice a lot gentler, soft like everything Daryl had ever wanted. “Look at me?” Rick coaxed, his thumb starting up a mindless rub against the spot right above Daryl’s knee. 

Somehow it made his head spin. 

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Daryl finally dragged his gaze up, meeting Rick’s hesitantly. Whatever he expected to see wasn’t there - Rick’s eyes were still surprised, yes, but they were warm,  _ so fucking warm… _ And then, Rick was leaning forward, his other hand finding its way around the back of Daryl’s neck, and they were  _ kissing  _ again. It wasn’t just a quick press of lips this time - no, Rick dove in with everything he had, sealing their mouths together and licking his way into Daryl’s, moaning low in his throat when the hunter granted him access and parted his lips just a bit. 

Rick’s fingers traveled higher, brushed through Daryl’s hair and made him shiver when he felt the blunt nails scrape all over his scalp.    
“Rick…” Daryl mumbled out, not really knowing what to say, wanting more of whatever Rick was willing to give. The heat was back in his belly, a thousand butterflies eating him from the inside like a wildfire, and he protested with a groan when Rick pulled away just the tiniest bit, looking at him seriously.    
“What do you want?” Rick whispered, his fingers stilling, tangling in Daryl’s hair and just holding on for a moment, not tugging, not yanking, just  _ being there.  _ The hunter swallowed thickly. 

_ What do you want?  _

_ Fuck. Everything.  _

Daryl bit his lip, shocked at his own thoughts. He wanted slow and gentle… he did want Rick’s lust, yes, but he wanted his love, too. The infinite care with which the man held his daughter in his arms, the intense gaze he sometimes focused on whoever he deemed worthy of it… If Rick wanted to eat him alive, bite off pieces of him and spit them on the floor, Daryl would probably let him, as long as he could be the center of Rick’s world for the time being. 

“Anything, Daryl,” Rick murmured, tearing him out of his thoughts. 

_ Love me.  _

Somehow, Rick must have read the internal struggle within Daryl’s mind, because within a few seconds, they were both stretched out on Rick’s narrow bunk, with Rick rolling Daryl on his back, kissing him yet again. The blanket was pulled away, and Rick’s leg - covered by a set of soft sweats - found its way between Daryl’s thighs. Rick’s hands migrated to the front of Daryl’s shirt, started to fiddle with the buttons, and way too late did Daryl realize that Rick was opening them, prying his shirt apart and skimming his fingers over every inch of newly revealed flesh. When Rick’s palms curved around his sides, pushing his clothes away, Daryl froze, blinking up at the bottom of the top bunk with bleary eyes. He could tell that Rick’s middle fingers were just about grazing some of the deeper scars he had on his back, the ones that overlapped and covered a part of his ribs. 

“Daryl?” Rick asked, pausing, his calculating gaze slipping over Daryl, a fiery path that the hunter could  _ feel. _ And then, Rick must have gotten what was going through Daryl’s mind, because he was crawling higher, practically covering Daryl with his body, looming over him until Daryl finally looked right into his eyes. 

“Scars?” Rick murmured, and Daryl nodded, fighting the urge to get up and walk out.   
“Yeah.”   
“It’s okay.” Rick reassured and kissed him again. His hands found their way to Daryl’s belt, opened it somewhat hesitantly, and when one curious hand dipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, Daryl groaned quietly. It was so very different from what he had expected - the tentativeness of Rick’s fingers, the fact that he let Daryl’s shirt be - the hunter was suddenly breathless with it all.    
“Fuck!” He hissed when Rick’s hand wrapped around his length. Rick gave him a few small rubs, then took him out, fingers curling and molding to the shape of his dick.    
“Alright?” Rick asked, his voice oddly unsure, and Daryl blinked up at him, surprised. 

He had expected nails and bites, scratches and bruises, maybe some of Rick’s patented eyefuck and holding him down, not this…  _ tenderness. _

He nodded quickly, just to be rewarded with Rick’s brilliant smile directed right at him and a couple of longer strokes. Daryl’s hips bucked up, as much as they could with Rick half-sitting on top of him, and he moaned, trying not to be too loud. Rick gave a groan of his own and smothered the end of it in Daryl’s neck, hiding his face right under Daryl’s ear and kissing the spot. It made liquid heat trickle down Daryl’s spine and he arched up, biting his lip when Rick’s hand picked up a steady pace, his thumb swiping over the tip, smearing the precome around and down the hard length. 

The pleasure spreading through him made Daryl clench his fingers in the bedding. His whole body was tingling, but he wasn’t sure whether it was because of what Rick was doing below his belt, or just because it was  _ Rick _ who was caressing him. Daryl could easily feel Rick’s breaths, puffing out against his skin, right where Rick’s lips were pressing little kisses to the side of his neck. Rick’s teeth came into play, too, but they were gentle, nibbling just enough to be felt but not enough to hurt. When Rick shifted a little to the side, his weight squished Daryl a bit against the bed, and it was one of the most wonderful feelings in his entire life. 

And then, Rick’s hips rocked forward, and he  _ moaned _ right into Daryl’s ear, and Daryl’s brain just switched  _ off. _ Rick was hard inside his sweats, his cock rubbing against Daryl’s hip with every tiny thrust Rick’s hips made, so in tune with the rhythm he kept jerking Daryl off with that it only served to highlight it all. Daryl shivered and let his hands move, untwisting them from the sheets and hooking his arms behind Rick’s back. He skimmed them down, trailing his nails along Rick’s spine, then paused when he encountered the bottom of the tee Rick was wearing. The fabric had ridden up a bit, and Daryl touched the soft skin it revealed gently. It was hot, and when he scraped his nails over it, Rick gave a long moan, his whole body twitching. 

“Yesss…” Rick hissed, then kicked up the speed of his hand, and Daryl couldn’t do much more than hold on for the ride.  _ Jesus…  _ He grabbed two fistfuls of Rick’s t-shirt, hoping he wouldn’t explode from the pleasure flooding him in waves. Rick seemed set on driving him crazy, though - his fingers tight where they were moving over Daryl’s length, and he added a little twist every time his palm got to the head, shooting sparks of electricity right through the hunter. 

After a few more strokes, accompanied by Rick’s hips grinding into Daryl’s hipbone, Daryl came, his release splashing wetly on his abdomen. Rick kept on moving his hand, smothering his own quiet moans with Daryl’s skin, trembling and shuddering above him until they both fell still finally. 

Daryl’s brain was so fried that it took him a moment to realize that Rick was shaking again, this time from laughter. He narrowed his eyes at his friend when Rick pulled away, a shit-eating grin spreading all over his face.    
“What?” Daryl gruffed, but Rick shook his head, still smiling like a loon.    
“Nothing, just… Merry Christmas, I guess…” he said, voice low. Daryl was ready to snark back at him, but Rick chose that moment to look down and take a stock of his sweats - his very  _ wet _ sweats. Daryl’s snarky retort died on his lips, a shiver rushing down his back.    
“Did ya…”   
“Aha.” Rick nodded, glancing up at him sheepishly, eyes wide and one lip trapped between his teeth.

With a growl, Daryl leaned in to kiss him. 

 

-&-

 

It took them a little over five minutes to feel uncomfortable with their come drying and making their skin itch, so they cleaned themselves up a bit. It was right after Rick was done tugging up a fresh pair of boxers that Daryl hesitated. He was sitting on the edge of Rick’s bunk again, with Rick plopping down next to him, then changing his mind and lying down, stretching luxuriously.    
“What’s wrong?” He asked, seeing Daryl’s troubled expression.    
“Everything’s fine,” Daryl muttered, looking down at the floor.    
“Why the face then?”    
“What face?”    
“The one you’re making right now.” Rick’s voice wasn’t irritated, just genuinely curious. Daryl sighed.    
“Ain’t makin’ a face.”    
“Yeah, you are. What’s wrong? Wasn’t that what you wanted? Your Christmas gift?” Rick asked, shuffling around on the mattress and adjusting the pillow under his head. There was another pillow right next to it, waiting for Daryl like an invitation. 

The hunter bit his lip,  _ hard.  _

“What I don’t get is that bit about you not wanting to open it,” Rick went on, and Daryl squeezed his eyes shut. He felt bad, almost ashamed for thinking that Rick would be anything  _ but _ gentle with him. He hadn’t known any better, and Rick  _ was _ a violent man, but Daryl had never been so wrong in his entire life. 

“Hey, c’mere,” Rick prompted, his hand appearing on Daryl’s shoulder and tugging him closer, until they were both lying on the narrow mattress, their legs tangled together to make up for the lack of space. “I hope you don’t have regrets over this…” Rick whispered, one of his hands tangling in Daryl’s hair and just brushing through it.    
“No… fuck,  _ no,” _ Daryl shook his head a bit, hiding his face into Rick’s neck. His own arms went around Rick’s waist, keeping him close.    
“What’s wrong then?”    
“Thought it would be different…” Daryl mumbled quietly.    
“Different?” 

Daryl whispered something, something that was way too complicated to decipher when his lips were still pressed against Rick’s neck, but their leader must have heard some of it. Especially the word  _ hurt _ if his suddenly tense form was any indication.    
“Daryl…” he asked hesitantly, “do you  _ want _ that?”    
“No!” Daryl shook his head again.   
“Good,” Rick murmured and tucked his fingers under Daryl’s chin, making the hunter look at him. “Because I plan on cuddling the living hell out of you,” he added, smiling when Daryl’s eyes widened in surprise.    
“I can do that.” Daryl nodded, then sighed when he was rewarded with a kiss. 

“I hope you plan on keeping this gift after Christmas, too,” Rick said, smiling, when they parted a few moments later.    
“Yeah.” Daryl nodded, licking his lips.  _ Rick wanted to keep on doing this? Hell yeah!  _   
“Merry Christmas to me,” Rick grinned, then proceeded to cuddle the living hell out of Daryl. The hunter couldn’t remember another time he had been so wrong and felt so good about it. 

_ Merry Christmas, indeed.  _


End file.
